The Ylem (4 page)

And
I
wasn’t supposed to be thinking
about him.

Did it count as thinking, though? Because if
I wasn’t
really
thinking, then thinking about him didn’t
really count. Was I making any sense? Absolutely not.

Just shut up, Kalista
,
shut
up
.
You’re having mental diarrhea.

The bell rang. A storm of scraping chairs
thundered across the room and everybody dashed for the door.
Tristan glided beside me without sparing me a glance and walked out
into the hallway, joining the swarming mob outside that streamed in
opposite directions. Had I been daydreaming? Perhaps I’d imagined
everything. Those gray eyes had been too beautiful, too exotic to
be real.

I shook myself out from the daze and stood
up. “Hey, Valerie, can I borrow your English notes?” I asked her
once she and Owen fell into step beside me.

“Sure,” she said, handing me a Tinkerbell
binder.

“Not paying attention, huh? Spacing out
again?” Owen smiled, bumping his shoulder with mine.

“No, I wasn’t
spacing out
. I just
want to make sure I have everything right. Every person captures
different ideas, you know,” I told him, shoving the ridiculously
girly Tinkerbell binder into my tote. “You like to observe people a
lot, isn’t it?”

“I do, as a matter of fact,” he said,
raising his finger in the air as if he was a philosopher about to
announce his latest theory. “And my observing skills have noticed
something regarding
you
.”

I chuckled. “Really? Enlighten me,
please.”

“You don’t have anything to do this weekend,
right?”

“Right,” I confirmed, looking at him
suspiciously.

“So…why don’t you go out with a friend of
mine?” he proposed. I almost fell to the floor. “You’re new in
town—he can show you everything around.”

Like a date? No, thank you.

“A friend of yours?” I asked.

“Dean. He’s been asking about you the whole
week,” he said with an annoyed expression, scratching his head. “So
you better tell him yes.”

“Don’t be pushy, Owen.” Valerie poked him on
the arm. “If she wants to go out with him or not, it’s none of your
business.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, rubbing his arm.

“And you better tell Dean we’re not in
fourth grade anymore. He can ask Kalista by himself.”

I swallowed hard, nearly choking in the
process. “No, no, it’s fine. Don’t worry. I—I won’t be able to
anyway. I still have to help my dad with the house. There are boxes
everywhere…”

“Good luck with that,” Valerie said, with a
face that screamed
not in a million years would I spend my
weekend dealing with dust and boxes
.

I wanted to tell her I wasn’t very fond of
the idea either, but instead I said, “Thanks,” and forced out a
smile. Letting her know about it wouldn’t have helped me with
anything. It would’ve given Owen the perfect spark to set off a
talk to try and convince me to go out with his friend, and I
would’ve ended surrounded by an unwieldy fire.

Who was Dean anyway? Why did he want to go
out with me? During these past few days my social abilities had
just permitted helloes and goodbyes, nothing interesting or worthy
of note. But, to my dismay, this wasn’t something unheard of in my
life. It was actually pretty common. My low profile didn’t seem to
bother guys as it was supposed to. On the contrary, for some
unexplainable reason, they seemed to be more attracted by it—all
kinds of guys, from geeks and druggies, to football players and
class presidents. And girls seemed to hate me, causing a huge lack
in the female friend department; I guess the somewhat nice curves
I’d grown into weren’t helpful either. All of this had driven me to
stay away from people. I hated drama, and I wanted to avoid it at
all costs. Stephen had been the only one I’d kept close to me.
And look how that turned out.

But I had a new life here, and Valerie
didn’t seem like any of those girls, so I’d decided to give it a
try. Not on the dates, though. You might think I was used to being
asked on a date, but I wasn’t. It’d always been awkward and
embarrassing. And I really didn’t trust guys. Like my dad used to
say, they all just wanted to have fun, no matter whose heart they
squelched—and my heart wasn’t ready for another squelch.

The morning passed quickly with Humanities
and Biology. Valerie and Owen were in the same classes as me,
except for French on Thursdays. Owen hated French. He said there
was nothing romantic about a bunch of gargled words that got stuck
in your throat, and since Valerie loved Spanish (she thought it was
sexy as hell) he’d joined Mrs. Olivas class with Valerie.

Until now, Tristan only seemed to be in my
English class, which was a big gulp of fresh air. After what
happened this morning, his presence wasn’t a plus. He was too
distracting and—

And what was the matter with that blond guy
running toward us—a lanky, muscular guy, running as if the world
outside was crumbling to dust.

He skidded to a halt before us. “Hey Val,
Kalista,” he added, panting and looking at me, then shortly turning
to Owen. “The coach called for a quick get-together. We gotta
go.”

“What—now? I'm starving!” Owen bawled.

Valerie shot him a stern look.

“Okay, okay…I guess duty calls then. Let’s
go,” he told the tall guy and added, “See you both at lunch.” He
turned and sprinted down the bright-lit hallway.

But the tall blond didn’t move. “Bye,” he
smiled at me, looking into my eyes with an odd sparkle.

I smiled, embarrassed, and his grin
broadened. Then, as if remembering why he'd come, he turned to join
a far-flung Owen.

“It seems you have a fan,” Valerie murmured,
tilting her head toward me.

My face turned tomato red. “He’s just being
nice with me.”

“True. Dean is a really nice person—and good
looking,” she said, studying my face to see my reaction.

“That’s Dean?” I asked with a twist in my
stomach, the red in my face flushing to a white-hot crimson.

“Yep, the same one. He’s on the football
team with Owen.”

I’d forgotten Owen was part of the Warriors.
Since I didn’t like football, minor things like that tended to slip
my mind—I mean, bulky guys running and crashing against each other?
No, thank you.

Dean seemed really nice, though. He was good
looking and had a cute smile. I bet girls did like him, and being a
football player had its perks. But I didn’t care about those
things. Most of the time I didn’t think or didn't act like a normal
girl. Even Stephen thought I was weird.

He’d once said to me there was something odd
in me, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but that it
was this same weird thing that attracted people to me.

I didn’t know if that was good or bad, but
I’ve always felt different, like I didn’t belong here. Wasn’t that
how every teen felt, anyway? How cliché. I guess I did belong in
this world, after all.

At lunch, we sat at our usual table with
food trays of dry chicken and greasy fries. I looked around the
cafeteria to check if Tristan was there. He wasn’t. Gladness and
disappointment poured down on me. I didn’t know why. A girl passing
by glanced at us. She had layered hair of a copper blonde color and
pale blue eyes. Pretty overall, but the look was totally spoiled by
the killer arctic glare in her eyes when she looked at me.

“Don’t worry about her. It’s just Chloe,”
Valerie muttered when she noticed I stiffened. “We used to be good
friends, but we had some issues. She changed a lot when she became
Dean’s girlfriend.”

“She’s Dean’s girlfriend?” I hissed,
confused.

“No, she’s Dean’s ex. They broke up three
months ago. She’s been trying to get him back, but Dean isn't
stupid.”

Did Chloe think I was stealing him? He
hadn’t even asked me out yet. Actually, we hadn’t even talked, so
she couldn’t be mad at me.

I frowned.
Ugh
. It was starting
again, the girl-hate thing.

“Hey, now that we’re on our own, I wanted to
ask you something,” Valerie said, bending over the table.

“About?”

“About what you think of Tristan,” she
lowered her voice.

I cleared my throat. “I—well—yeah, he’s good
looking.” As in hot-out-of-the-oven-chocolate-soufflé
good
.

“He’s way more than good looking,
Kalista.”

“Maybe,” I said indifferently, looking away.
“So, why isn’t he here? He doesn’t eat?”

She smiled. “He does, but most of the time
he goes to have lunch at his house with his friends. I guess today
is one of those days.”

“Oh…and, why did he leave these past few
days?” I was asking too many questions.

“I don’t know. Some people say he went to
see his girlfriend. Apparently she lives in western North
Carolina.”
He has a girlfriend
. “They call it the land of
waterfalls. They say it’s beautiful.”

“Nice,” I sighed. Of course he had a
girlfriend. He was too good-looking to not have one. Lucky girl, I
bet she was beautiful, too, a match made in heaven.

What is wrong with you!
I slapped
myself mentally. There was no reason for my bitterness. This was a
good thing for me. He was with somebody, which proved I’d imagined
his intense gaze this morning. Now the idea wouldn’t flutter in my
mind anymore.

“If he does have a girlfriend, she’s the
luckiest girl in the world. I mean, besides his obvious
gorgeousness, he’s so respectful and everything. Always smiling and
saying hi to people, even if he looks like…I don’t know, sad
sometimes,” she continued, lost in her thoughts. “And he never
looks at other girls, even if he can choose whoever he wants. He
must really love his girlfriend—if he does have one.”

He definitely had a girlfriend. “What makes
you think he doesn’t?”

“Well, I haven’t seen her with my own eyes.
Some have, though…seen her. They say she has long platinum hair,
blue eyes and long legs…you know, like a runway model,” she added
enviously. “Actually, it seems she is a model—but that’s another
rumor.”

It wouldn’t be too surprising if his
girlfriend was a model.

“I'm back!” Owen called, sitting next to
Valerie with a friend. The guy glanced at me and smiled, more
friendly than I would’ve liked. “Man, I'm starving!”

“What a surprise,” Valerie said with a roll
of her eyes.

Owen started babbling with his flirty friend
about plays and strategies. I didn’t know why they needed to carry
on with that at the table. Wasn’t it enough to practice the whole
week? At least, the talk was keeping that
flirt
busy,
distracting him from bumping his knee against mine whenever he
could. Ugh. I hoped he didn’t have a girlfriend or anything.

I turned away annoyed and spotted Dean
across our table, talking and laughing with some football players
and girls, having a good time. With a twist of his head, he looked
in my direction and caught my eyes. He smiled at me. A flush of
embarrassment brushed my face. Trying to be polite, I smiled back
before turning away. The first thing that flashed into my mind:
Chloe. I hoped she wasn’t watching, and I was too much of a coward
to see if she was.

Later that day, Valerie and Owen offered to
take me home, but since I had a date to the
supermarché
I
was left alone waiting for my ride
.

The sky was filled with cottony clouds,
reminding me of my childhood when I used to search for animal
shapes or magical dragons, taking flight with my imagination.
Sometimes I still did it, like now, but—boom! Tristan’s face
flashed into my mind.

Jesus! Why am I thinking about him so
much?

Anyway, he was nowhere to be seen—luckily.
Maybe he decided to stay home and…Crap! I was thinking about him
again. But it was hard not to. His gorgeous face was stuck in my
head and his laugh still resonated in my ears.

Please stop thinking about him.
Please
.

“Hey Kalista,” said a familiar voice. My
stomach tensed. “So…they left you waiting, huh?” Dean said with a
smile.

“Kind of.” I looked down, uncomfortable.

“You need a ride?” he asked.

No. No.
“Thanks, but I promised my
dad I would go with him some place.” Note to myself: being alone
made you look available.

“My name is Dean by the way.”

Like I didn’t know it already. “Hi Dean.” I
smiled.

“Hey. So…what are you, uh, doing this
weekend?”

I gulped. “Well…I need to help my dad to
unpack things…” I explained, embarrassed.

He looked disappointed, heart-sickeningly
disappointed. Something about this nice guy feeling like this
tugged at my heart. Before I realized what I was saying, it was too
late. “But…but maybe next weekend we can do something.”

“Sure,” he said immediately, his baby blue
eyes widening. “Next weekend, then?”

I hesitated for a moment, slapping my
forehead inwardly for what I’d just done. “Next…weekend,” I finally
promised.

“Great. I, uh—well, enjoy the unpacking
process,” he said with that odd sparkle playing in his baby blues.
“See you on Monday.” He smiled and walked away.

How stupid could I get? Really. This town
was messing up with my mind.

And where was my tote? I patted my hip with
my hand. I gave out an exasperated sigh and rushed to the school’s
entrance and into the hallway. There was nobody wandering the
polished floors for once, just a guy rummaging inside one of the
blue lockers at the bottom. I was about to reach the classroom,
when he suddenly snapped his locker shut, turned and saw me a few
feet away. Again, surprise filled his beautiful eyes.

They were real
.

I froze, my feet anchored to the ground, my
heart racing. Tristan didn’t move, but his surprise had now turned
into interest, his narrowed eyes staring at me with breathtaking
curiosity. I wasn’t imagining this. He was staring at me. It felt
too real, too strong. Something inside me wanted to move. Something
about him called me. I felt again that unexplainable connection.
But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. My heart was about to pump
out from my chest. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t anything.
Everything became blurry—the lockers, the walls, the doors, all
diffused into hazy forms. It was just him and me, staring at each
other.